As The Earth Spins
by RyliasShadow
Summary: *Rated M swearing, drug/alcohol use, maybe lemon content. I wanted to write a South Park soap opera, so here it is! You'll laugh, cry, n curse my name on this endless journey following a few down-home boys thru all their happiness, hatred and heartbreak*


**WELCOME TO SOUTH PARK**

Stan stretched and panted for breath in his front yard. He'd just come back from his evening run, and was wondering why he continued to run around town every night and every morning. He told himself it was to stay in shape for football, but in truth, he knew when he ran it cleared his mind, and he thought of everything he spent every moment of every day trying not to think about. Although he really didn't want to think of such things, some part of him knew he had to give those thoughts even a little bit of time in the forefront of his mind, or it would eventually destroy him. He sat on the front step, catching his breath and wiping the sweat from his brow, unable to halt the thoughts that had cropped up during his run. Wendy had been acting odd lately, dismissive and careless. He remembered the look of her face when he'd asked her on Friday if she was coming to his game the next night. It was as though she thought he was stupid, and she told him she had to study for the History test on Tuesday. He then asked if he could see her over the weekend, and she'd told him to give her a call, and she would see. Stan put his elbows on his knees, and his face in his hands.

What was going on with her? Sure, they'd had their ups and downs over the years, but whenever they were "a couple", she almost acted like a normal human being. She called him, she asked to study with him, she let him take her on dates, she tried to be interested in his likes, and he hers. What was up with her these days? It was driving him crazy, they were sixteen, for God's sake, who acts like petulant children anymore? Stan halted that thought. He could think of several of his classmates that acted that way, but Wendy was class president, she had been for half their lives…she didn't act like that. So was it him? He sighed and stood. Dinner was probably ready, and as usual, he'd put off his homework all weekend, and he had to get it done before school tomorrow. He slipped inside and went to his room to change into some sweat pants and a wife beater. As he brushed the wrinkles from his clothes, the phone rang, and he swept it up at once, wondering if it was her.

"Wendy?" He asked.

"No, Stan, I haven't gotten that sex change yet. Dude, what's goin' on?" Kyle's voice from the other end of the phone almost made Stan laugh. Almost.

"I don't know, man. She's being so dismissive lately, and I keep wondering if it's me." Stan said, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Maybe she just doesn't like you anymore, Stan. It happens, and no offense, it happens with Wendy a lot." Kyle told him carefully. Stan harrumphed.

"If she didn't like me, she'd dump me, dude. She wouldn't string me along like this. But her attitude is driving me fuckin' crazy, I can't take it much longer, and I don't know what to do!" Stan said, his emotions getting higher than usual. He loved having Kyle around to talk to, even if he was a huge nerd. The whole school seemed to find great humor in the football captain being such good friends with the chess club leader, and founder of the computer tech squad. Kyle sighed.

"I'd say if it's really bothering you, talk to her about it, or give her the boot."

"I don't wanna dump her, I…I really like her." He said lamely.

"Last month it was love, Stan. That's all I have to say on that. I was actually calling to see if you needed any help with Algebra." Kyle said flatly. Kyle knew how bad Wendy was for Stan, but the only way he'd figure it out was to muddle through it on his own. Kyle wondered a bit on the intelligence of him giving out relationship advice. After all, he seemed to pick the wrong girls for himself, too. He'd never had a serious relationship, or one that even lasted more than a few weeks. But his friend needed him to say something, so he did. If he took it to heart of not was his own business. Stan rubbed his eyes and sighed.

"I don't know, I haven't started it yet. If I get stuck, I'll call you, alright?" Stan said wearily.

"I wish I could help you more, dude." Kyle said, and they both knew he didn't mean math. Stan nodded, even though he knew Kyle couldn't see it.

"I'll talk to you later, bro." Stan said and hung up the phone. He lay flat on his bed, staring at the ceiling and wondered if tomorrow would bring him anything helpful.

**_*SOUTH PARK*_**

Kyle looked at the receiver a few moments before setting it back on the cradle. Stan was having the same problems over and over again because he was so hung up on the same female. It had been eight years since they first started dating, and since then they'd been on and off, loving and hating each other over and over again. Neither one of them seemed to know that they just weren't right for each other. He'd told Stan that once, to which his only reply was, "if it's not her, than who is it?" Kyle of course had no response. All of this wasn't the only reason he knew Stan and Wendy weren't a good match, but he didn't like thinking about that. He sighed, and ran his fingers through his thick hair before a knock sounded at his door.

"What?" He called, and Ike came into the room, a sucker in his mouth and a textbook in his hands.

"Read this, Kyle, the idiots who write these things outta be shot." He said, shoving the book under Kyle's nose. Kyle pushed the book away.

"Not now, Ike, I've got a lot on my plate." He told his eleven year old Canadian brother. Ike's eyebrows knitted on his forehead.

"Oh come on, you love pointing out typos in textbooks with me." Ike said. Kyle chuckled.

"You're right, I do. But I've got a lot on my mind, and I need to clear my head."

"Well, this'll help." Ike said firmly, and sat next to Kyle, pointing out all the imperfections of the text to his brother. Kyle sighed and smiled. He loved his brother; he always seemed to know when he needed a lift. After a time, their mother called them down to dinner and Kyle's mind had slipped away from Stan and his woman troubles.

**_**SOUTH PARK**_**

Eric was lounging in a wooden chair, his eyes closed and his hands tangled in a short mop of blonde hair. It reminded him of why he did certain things. His body tightened up just before his release, and he groaned out in pleasure. After a few blissful moments, Butters sat back on his knees, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Didja like that, Eric?" He asked. Eric smirked.

"I did. But I've gotta go take care of some things, so I'd better get going." He said, standing and moving to the side. Butters' eyes lowered and he licked his lips tentatively.

"Listen, Eric, I've been thinking…"

"Now what have I told you about that, Butters?" Eric asked, stretching his back. Butters sighed.

"Not to, but I have anyway, and I think that maybe…we should tell people." He said.

"Butters…what makes this whole 'secret relations' thing fun?" Eric asked, fixing his jeans. Butters bit his lower lip, but didn't answer. Her knew the answer, and didn't want to say it.

"The fact that it's a secret." Eric told him with a warm smile. Butters took a deep breath and nodded. Eric bent forward and gave Butters a light kiss on his forehead before bidding him farewell, and leaving the house. Butters stayed there on his knees a few more long minutes, thinking. He really really liked Eric, and loved doing these things for him, but he hated the fact that he was lying and skirting around, not being honest about his relationship with him. Besides, now that he thought about it, he was usually the one doing things for Eric, and Eric hardly ever reciprocated. Was he being used? He shook his head. He didn't want to think Eric was using him, so he pushed the thought to the back of his mind, getting to his feet. He'd had dinner, and dessert as Eric called it, and now he had to get to sleep for school tomorrow.

Eric smirked to himself as he started the short walk back home, his hands in his pockets. Eric told himself he was bi, and since the girls he knew wouldn't put out, he got what he wanted from Butters. He liked that Butters was totally spineless, easy to manipulate and obedient to boot, but if he kept bringing up this 'telling people' thing, something would have to be done to shut that talented mouth of his. Eric kept his time with Butters a secret for a reason. He told _himself_ he was bi; he didn't tell anyone else, to hell with that! Eric yawned as he walked. He hadn't been sleeping well lately, but now that he was nice and relaxed, he was sure he'd sleep fine tonight. That, and Kenny had sold him a eighth about two hours ago.

Eric stepped up to his front door, unlocking it and slipping inside.

"Mom? You here?" He yelled. There was no answer from anyone but the old cat lounging on the couch. He stroked Mr. Kitty's back, smiling wryly down at the animal.

"She's out "working" again, huh?" He said aloud. He hated what his mother was, what she did, that she only did it for herself and not for him. Eric had a job and a car with no help from her, he supported himself because no one else was, his mother spent Eric's whole life forcing him to become self reliant due to her own selfishness. He hated her for it.

_Only two more years...than I can get out of here... _He told himself, a hand slipping into his pocket to clutch the Ziploc bag of weed. He went to the kitchen and made himself a dinner of ramen noodles, singing to himself in the emptiness of the house. He took dinner to his room and set it on his nightstand to cool while he found his small glass pipe, named Gibson, and loaded a bowl.

"Take me away from here, Gibson." He said before lighting it and inhaling a large amount of smoke and THC. He finished his bowls of weed and ramen unhurriedly and turned on the television on the desk at the end of his bed. He yawned and eventually slipped off into sleep.

**_**SOUTH PARK**_**

Kenny McKormick hadn't been home all day; he'd been loitering around the mall most of the day, met up with Eric to sell him some pot, then met up with his own dealer to get a few things much worse for you than weed. It was just after sundown when her walked up the path to his house, and from the sidewalk, he could hear the screaming. His parents were at it again. They were drunk, angry, and probably on one of the drugs Kenny had in his pockets, not that he cared about the screaming outside his head. It was the screaming inside his head that got to him. Growing up, he'd always thought things would be better once he was older. Not that his parents would stop fighting or anything, simply that he'd be used to it by then, he'd be able to cope with his life in a healthy way, like normal kids.

But Kenny wasn't normal, he never had been or would be. Things hadn't gotten better as he aged, either. The more he heard it, the more it hurt, the more it tore at him and no matter how he tried to get used to it or to expect it, every time it was like a brand new wound. A wound that struck him deeper, harder, and faster every time. That had to be it...that had to be the reason for the voices; he'd heard his parents yelling for so long that it played over and over in his head now. He'd eventually found a way to cope, but it wasn't healthy for himself or anyone close to him, not that there were many close to him anyway. Porn was his distraction from his reality, and the booze and drugs were the real escape. He slipped inside and went right into the kitchen, ignoring their voices and grabbed a bottle of tequila from the freezer. He walked it back to his dingy bedroom and rammed a wooden chair under the door handle. He took a swig of the ice cold liquor as he pulled his prizes from his pockets. Acid, ecstasy, mushrooms, and a touch of blow, but that was for another night. He crammed a few 'shrooms into his mouth, washing them down with the amber angel, as he called it. He stripped down and flopped onto his bed, slugging more of the liquor down as he waited for the drugs to kick in.

_Please make the voices stop..._ He begged silently. _I can't take this shit..._

He covered his ears, and that didn't help. It was like the voices were inside his head rather than outside, but he knew that thought to be ridiculous...but he kept hearing things that his parents hadn't shouted, and the voices that said those things were much softer but darker than the elevated voices of his screaming parents.

It wasn't long before half a bottle of tequila was sitting in his stomach, along with the drugs. He sprawled naked on his bed, watching his world of gray light up in all the colors he'd never imagined and swim around his brain, the voices turning to inaudible garble, the static between radio stations. The voices were gone...and everything looked SO freakin' colorful, and...and and a-animated!

Kenny's flailing hand landed on his nightstand a mere inch from his stereo, and he fumbled with the knobs until "Cherry Pie" roared out at him from the speakers. He sang along, rocking out as best as he could to the music, and none of this would be remembered when Kenny awoke for school the next morning.


End file.
